[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies":3,"chapter-notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-chapter-20":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","Notes on Kraft Anomalous Studies",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2283498,4467,"Chapter 20: Chapter Nineteen: The Afternoon Before Departure","notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-chapter-20",20,"\u003Cp>Kraft returned to the inn with his book.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The inn was quiet in the afternoon; no customers sat in the small restaurant downstairs, and the owner was polishing a wooden beer mug behind the counter. Seeing Kraft return, he greeted him voluntarily: “You’re back early too. Want something to eat? I recommend grilled fish with beer.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Why ‘too’?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh, your companion just got back a little while ago. You don’t look like merchants—I could’ve recommended a few regulars if you were.” The owner set down the mug. Busy was bad, but an empty afternoon was even duller; he couldn’t just leave the inn to wander, so someone to chat with was best.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lane came back so early? Kraft thought he’d at least spend the whole day wandering outside, since truly “sufficiently mysterious” items aren’t easy to find—even if he asked his ship captain friends, they don’t always have them on hand. Most of them are merchants focused on profit margins, not collectors of random oddities, especially not these clearly unnatural ones.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Often, when captains or sailors are far from home, they drink a bit too much in bars to relieve the monotony and stress of long voyages, and upon stepping out, they’re likely to encounter locals hawking all sorts of goods.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These unknown individuals might spin a few tales—claiming the items bring good luck or have special powers—and the drunken sailors, swept up in the moment, buy things they’ve never seen before.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It’s also possible that in places like the ice fields, where the locals are notoriously tough, you step outside and find a burly man waving an axe at you, asking if you’d like to take a look. Victims struggle to tell whether he genuinely wants to show you something—or is politely hinting, “Bro, I’m a bit short on cash right now.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There are many specific reasons, no need to elaborate—most are just like Kraft’s own experience buying “local specialties” or “handmade crafts” while traveling, impulsively purchasing something, then immediately regretting it afterward—purely foolish behavior.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Later, he’d often find traces of removed labels in corners, or sometimes even the original labels still intact on mass-produced trinkets from street markets.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Kraft might lose a few dozen, maybe a hundred silver coins on a souvenir, but for captains and sailors, realizing they’d been ripped off could be far worse—losing a few black silver coins was minor; many lost far more, and it hurt deeply.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At that point, they’re eager to sell these items to recoup some of their losses, which is why most of the oddities found on sailors’ stalls come from this exact source.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“So, boss, you know quite a few people in Venden Port?” Kraft sat down near the counter; it was rare for him to visit Venden Port, and his lunch had left him still craving more. “Just the grilled fish, no beer.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In ports like this, taverns and inns often double as hubs for gossip and information, and while chatting with customers, the owners sometimes also act as middlemen—or even have their own stockpiles.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Regardless of whether they fulfill those roles, most owners are quite talkative; the constant stream of guests gives them plenty to discuss—much like taxi drivers in the other world’s memory, people who’ve sat in one place too long and naturally developed an uncanny ability to chat.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The boss called the kitchen to bring out the grilled fish, poured himself a beer, and leaned on the counter, clearing his throat.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What kind of man doesn’t like beer?” He took a deep gulp, foam wetting his wild beard. “Everyone I know makes their living at sea—most I see only a few times a year. Sometimes I help them sell goods or recommend sources.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When I was in my twenties, I envied them—I thought I’d save up, sell the inn, buy a ship, and sail with a crew like them, running routes from Dunling to the ice fields.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Among young people in Venden Port, at least nine out of ten share the same dream: own their own ship, brave the stormy seas, and return with gold and enough stories to boast about for days in the tavern.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Sounds great—so why didn’t you go?” Kraft prompted smoothly, encouraging the boss to keep talking. To be honest, Kraft himself had once harbored similar fantasies—he’d always held unrealistic romantic notions about the sea.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Ah, it’s because I got to know too many people,” the boss sighed, as if recalling his lost youth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What does that have to do with it?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The more people you know, the more you realize it’s not as glamorous as it seems. Sure, those guys seem so free, sailing everywhere—but in reality, they live frugally, making money through connections and intelligence, with most of their wealth tied up in their ships. Stick to the old routes, you won’t make big profits—you have to watch market conditions on both ends.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The boss clearly understood the inner workings—he must have seriously considered entering the trade.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Kraft grew curious; he’d never really learned about this before: “What about new routes? I remember some captains love sailing uncharted paths—like from here to the ice fields.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The boss’s words reminded Kraft of Captain William’s story—the one who transported grain and alcohol to trade for furs with the ice folk.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lane’s cousin’s tales had sparked immense curiosity in Kraft about distant, unfamiliar lands—he even considered collecting such stories, editing them, and publishing them as something like “Kraft’s Fairy Tales” for posterity.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The boss let out a drunken burp and scoffed, “That’s exactly what I thought when I was young—like everyone else, convinced I was the only clever one. There are plenty of smart people out there; any new route must’ve been thought of long ago—but either the journey’s too dangerous or the destination’s problematic, which is why they’ve only recently been developed.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Take the ice fields, for example—it’s not hard to get there, but there are only a few tribes you can communicate with, and those were painstakingly established by veteran captains. Now, sticking to just those few familiar traders is enough; anyone else must follow the coast further out to find new tribes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As for those completely unfamiliar tribes we’ve never contacted? Who knows if we can even communicate with them.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The boss took another swig, wearing the look of someone who’d been there: “So it’s better to stick with steady business. Every year, some of the people I know don’t come back—even those on the old routes. The best stories are the ones you hear over a drink in the tavern—nobody truly wants to be the hero of an adventure tale.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“True—only the living get to tell stories. Who cares about those who feed the fish?” Kraft agreed. Even on the sea, even a Titanic could sink—how much more so for wooden sailing ships? There’s no rescue if you capsize; you’re essentially waiting to die.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Boss, do you know of any shops in Venden Port that sell strange or unusual items?” Kraft asked casually, not expecting much.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Nope. You only find such things at street stalls—any shop here without steady customers starves to death.” The boss set down his cup and shook his head. “Too bad you won’t see any stalls these days—wait until the snow melts completely. Don’t overpay those vendors—I’ve never found anything worth more than two silver coins.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That was indeed heartfelt advice—overpaying at street stalls was pure foolishness, and Kraft understood that perfectly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>……\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>……\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After finishing the grilled fish, the boss had vented his talkativeness, and Kraft went upstairs to knock on Lane’s door.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You in there, Lane?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Come in—I’ve already bought something.” Lane opened the door and invited Kraft to admire his find. He’d been lucky—the stonemason happened to have a broken-off hand from a damaged statue, perfect for Lane’s creativity.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As soon as Kraft entered, he saw a striking artifact on the table: a stone-carved hand, severed at the wrist, designed to stand upright with the flat cut side down.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The palm bore a crooked rune, vaguely resembling squid tentacles. No polishing or embellishment—just the raw, ancient feel of something unearthed from an old ruin. Kraft, of course, had no expertise in artifact authentication, but his gut told him he’d seen this style before.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As he focused more intently, a flood of memories flashed through him—the non-human consciousness within him told him this rune bore a strong resemblance to one on the rune-eye Lane had bought earlier. It seemed slightly upgraded: smoother, more fluid, with no jagged breaks or uneven junctions.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Where’d you get this? Same place as last time?” Kraft pressed his temple.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He didn’t feel dizzy or headachy, but he hated this sensation—as if he’d been split into two parts: one ordinary self, the other infinitely expanded, effortlessly plucking the exact piece of information he needed from an ocean of data.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It gave him a strange illusion: that a living thing was stirring inside his skull, that his brain had developed independent capabilities and now resented this cramped living space.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“How did you know it was the same place as last time… the captain’s?” Lane nearly panicked, thinking his visit to the same stonemason had been exposed—but he quickly realized Kraft wasn’t referring to that, and hastily corrected himself, replacing “stonemason” with “captain.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lane wiped his brow and added, “He said it came from the same place as last time. And yeah, it does look connected to those stone eyeballs you bought before—he knew I collect these things, so he saved it for me. I think Grandfather will like it.” The local language was similar to English and didn’t distinguish between maternal and paternal grandfather, so Lane referred to Old Wood the same way Kraft did.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Outsiders might easily mistake them for brothers, but in truth, they were nearly as close.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“By the way, here’s your money back—I’m on good terms with him, so he gave me a discount, and I didn’t use your coins.” Lane pulled out the pouch Kraft had given him that morning and returned it untouched.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Really? How much was it? Shouldn’t we split the cost?” Kraft took the pouch, never doubting Lane’s sincerity.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No need—it was just one silver coin. I’m about to get my own fiefdom anyway; I don’t need to worry about such small sums.” At the mention of this, Lane beamed with pride.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Considering he was nearly twenty, Old Wood had long decided it was time to stop letting him wander aimlessly—he’d planned to formally grant Lane the title of knight, give him land to establish his own branch of the family, along with two fine horses, a full suit of armor, weapons, and the right to recruit his own retainers.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I’ll gladly come as a witness to your noble generosity,” Kraft laughed. “I’m going back to rest now—I hope I’m refreshed by morning for our departure.”\u003C\u002Fp>",1805,"2026-06-20T02:15:55.761Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","0f7f69fe3e20845352284aac2d4fc8719dfec002a93638d2a342d2cdb8583506","notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-chapter-21","notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-chapter-19",406,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fnotes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-cover.jpg"]